Wizzardly Accusations
by DDR Freak
Summary: Rincewind is accused of the attempted murder of the Patrician, and goes reluctantly on an adventure to find the actual assassin and clear his name.
1. Beginning at the Beginning

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Wizzardly Accusations

Chapter One- Beginning at the Beginning

The Discworld- a magical place, supported by the four elephants perched on the great celestial turtle A'Tuin. Not only is it magical, but it is thoroughly nonsensical and delightfully mad. It is a place where wiz(z)ards cast their spells, where witches brew potions under the half-moon, where dogs can talk and there be dragons… Also where nobles are barking mad and the cleverest people alive chase the Eater of Socks through the laundry room. It has its fair share of crime, too, even if it _is _properly organized crime that managed to worm its way out of paying the taxes. 

However, only some of this has any part in the story that is about to unfold. It is a tale of mystery, malice, murder*, mayhem, and other words that begin with 'm'. It is also about assassins, Watchmen, Patricians, and other dimensions, all smushed together in a symphony of majestic proportions, or at least of just proportions. 

And it all began one rainy night, in the bedroom of Havelock Vetinari, the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork. 

It was a dark and stormy night, and the Patrician had decided to turn in early, an event which rarely occurred due to his busy schedule. The paperwork was left in a neat pile for Drumknott to pick up in the morning, and everything was properly in its place. The gears of the machine were well-oiled indeed, and running smoothly. Well, as smoothly as they could.

Vetinari had quietly gotten to bed, which was an expensively stylish affair of uniquely carved wood and soft sheets. It was also extremely comfortable, which is a very important quality in a bed, especially the Patrician's. 

There was a flash of lightning that lit the room, throwing shadows into sharp relief. One shadow was particularly sharp… and it was the shadow of a robed figure with a knife, who somehow managed to get this far without getting killed…

With surprising speed and agility for a man of a continual forty-something, Vetinari snatched up his stiletto, and faced his opponent. He tried a quick stroke to take the figure off-guard. The thrust was parried clumsily. Vetinari, having a mind to finish this thing off quickly, turned, and, with an expert thrust, went to stab the figure in the ribs. 

To his mild surprise, the stroke was turned by… a box. Another flash of lightning lit the room, showing what was indeed a box, but a box with hundreds of delicate _feet…_

The figure, seeing its chance to escape, turned and ran. It left a brief trail of salty water on the carpet, before disappearing into shadows, the box following quickly behind.

The stiletto disappeared as quickly as it had come. Then Vetinari walked back to the Oblong Office, and summoned Drumknott.

"Send for Vimes," Vetinari told him, and then began to write a memo.

***

When Rincewind woke up, he began to mentally check his surroundings. Bed. Sheets. Window on the right side. He opened his eyes, didn't scream for once, and reached for his hat that was always hung on the only intact bedpost. For once, it wasn't there. Upon further searching it was found to be at the foot of the bed, lying on the floor. One of the sequined stars was off of it, too. Rincewind privately fumed. It had taken _ages _to sew all the bloody sequins on it…

Leaving the hat on the floor, Rincewind fell face-first back onto his pillow. The day had the beginnings of a bad one, so thus the best option was to just stay in bed, and wait until tomorrow to put off what was to be done today.

Just before he fell asleep, there were voices outside his door. One sounded an awful lot like Ridcully, but the other was unknown to Rincewind. 

_"You can't go in there!"_

"I've already told you, this is Watch business. I **can **go in there."

"I will not allow you to just barge in and search the blasted place! It's bloody unhygienic!"

"I don't care what it is, I've got orders from Vetinari, and I'm going to do what I have to."

"Don't you have to have some bloody evidence before you search?"

"Fine, fine! Here!" There was a pause, obviously of something being produced.

_"Bloody hellfire!"_

"Evidence enough for you? Or perhaps this, as well?" Another pause, another item.

_"But that's… no… I saw him sew the things on himself… took him **ages**…"_

"Will you let me through now?"

"Well…I can't stand in the way of the Watch, can I? I still don't like it, but I suppose there's no other choice, really…"

There was one last pause, which was then filled with the sudden 'bang!' of Rincewind's door** being forced open and rebounding against the wall. The door swung shut again, and was opened in a far more civilized manner. 

Rincewind had yet to move, and yet to care. 

Then, he found himself handcuffed, and being read his rights.

"…you have the right to a sodding lawyer, and we'll give you one if you're too bloody poor to hire one yourself; you have the right to stay shut up, because you'll regret everything you say probably soon and definitely later…"

"What? What?"

"I _said,_" Vimes sighed and began to start over.

"No, no, what am I bloody accused of?"

"I was getting to that," Vimes replied, leading Rincewind towards the door. "You've been accused of the attempted murder of the Patrician…" He didn't get any further.

"Are you completely _daft?_" Rincewind cried, and would've thrown his hands in the air if they hadn't, indeed, been handcuffed. "You're stark raving _mad _if you think _I _did _that_, of all bloody people!"

"…and you are also accused of assassination without belonging to the Guild, and a few other things that I'm not going to bother to say," he continued, ignoring Rincewind's outburst.

Rincewind was marched down the stairs, while the other wizards gathered at a safe distance, muttering among themselves.

_"…he's not that daft, is he?…"_

"…we're talking about the same wizard, right?…"

"…wait, **Rincewind? **Assassin? What?…"

"…pass potatoes the do, good my chap?…" That was the Bursar, without any doubt.

__

"…is it time for your frog pills, Bursar? Oh, how the time flies…"

Within the space of two minutes, Rincewind found himself in the old horse-drawn police cart. It was the one that was over forty years old and used to be used nightly by the Night Watch. Nowadays it was generally used for those _really _dangerous (and utterly insane) lawbreakers. Rincewind sat on the old bench, still handcuffed (a rather irritating and problematic point) and completely miserable.

_Bugger._

The cart began to bump down the street, hitting every possible pothole that ever existed in the roads. During one particularly violent bump, the chain of the old, rusty handcuffs caught themselves on a nail that protruded rather far from the wall…

Snap_._

Rincewind stared as the handcuffs came apart in his hands. The things had been ages old already, and it hadn't taken all that much to snap them apart.

Rincewind carefully walked over to the door of the cart. There was a small window with bars, and the gaps in it were _just _wide enough for Rincewind's arm to fit between and, after a few tense moments of uncertainty, push the bolt. 

The door swung open soundlessly on nicely oiled hinges. The streets beckoned, and Rincewind jumped off of the cart, towards potential freedom. However, he had just started off at a nice jog towards Sator Square when the cart's door slammed shut. The resulting noise echoed around the unusually empty street. The air stood still. 

"Hey! You!"

Rincewind had already started running before the first word was in the air. He sprinted down the Street of Small Gods, turned sharply onto Upper Broadway, then onto Widdershins Broadway, heading nowhere in particular. As he always said, the _to _could figure itself out later. The _away _was the main point. 

Off in the distance, just in the range of hearing, Rincewind heard someone shout, "Get Angua! Now!"

_Oh, bugger._

Angua was rather well-known in the criminal matrix of Ankh-Morpork. When it was found that the Watch had hired a werewolf, crime had evolved and adapted. Peppermint and antiseed oil was being sold daily in the Spice Market, if you knew where to look. 

Fortunately for Rincewind, he knew _exactly _where to look.*** 

After a quick sprint down a few alleys and small streets, Rincewind came to the Spice Market. People thronged everywhere, and the sounds of bargaining filled the air. Stall owners shouted their wares, customers shouted at the owners, and the people on boxes shouted at everyone in general. Rincewind walked, pushed, shoved, was shoved, pushed, and walked on as he attempted to get over to the left side of the Marketplace. If he could get there quick enough, he could probably get a bit of peppermint oil made into an effective bomb for a few dollars…

"Hey, guv, I've got a deal for you!" CMOT Dibbler had spotted Rincewind, and was coming in for the kill. "Look at this- it's a ball made of the _finest _crystal from the Sto Plains, and I'll sell it to you for ten dollars, and that's cutting me own thro-…" He didn't get any further, since he was swept away by the crowd. 

Finally reaching the partially hidden stall, Rincewind breathed a well-deserved sigh of relief. He slid up to the stall as unnoticeably as possible, realizing that that was bloody pointless, since it'd take a miracle of sight to find any specific person in the Market's huge crowd.

"So, guv, what'cha be needin' from th' likes 'o me?" the scruffy, shifty-looking stall owner. 

"Er…peppermint oil…" Rincewind replied, trying to keep his voice low and still be heard over the crowd.

"Wha'?"

"Peppermint oil!"

"Wha'?"

"_Peppermint oil!_"

"Oh, _peppamint _o'l," the vendor ducked behind some crates, searching and messing with a few things out of sight. In a few moments, he produced a pre-made peppermint bomb.

"Tha'll be sev'n dollas, guv," he held his hand out for the money.

"Here! Keep the blasted change," Rincewind shoved a ten-dollar piece into the vendor's hand. It was inspected thoroughly, and, having passed the authenticity test, was swiftly pocketed. 

"Cheers, guv," the vendor handed Rincewind the bomb carefully. "An' I ne'r sold it to ya', neither."

Rincewind hid the bomb in his sleeve for the time being. At the right time, he threw it. The thing sent peppermint oil everywhere, and everything within about thirty feet of the bomb reeked of the stuff for hours later. 

With that in order, Rincewind hurried from the Marketplace, and ended up down Short Street, then turned up Baker's Street, then doubled back, came up on Two Trees Way in a desperate attempt to keep anyone off of his trail. 

He was heading for somewhere where he could buy a fast horse, and possibly a new hat along the way. Rincewind was very conscious of his lack in the hat department. It had always been said that a wizard would always come back for his hat, but Rincewind felt that discretion was the better part of valor, at least while the Watch was after him.

He walked down an unpleasantly empty alley, the kind with more trash in it than most and was dark even at noon on a cloudless day. Turning slightly, he looked behind him, having the vague feeling that he was being watched. All he saw was a dog that lay on the old cobblestones. It was watching him with bright, _intelligent _eyes, and, upon a slightly closer look, he saw a badge glimmering on its collar…

_Bugger. _

He continued to walk down the alley with an exaggerated calm, and then burst into a fast run. Angua barked sharply behind him, and someone burst from behind a stack of rotting crates, and was knocked over as Rincewind ran past, cursing loudly. Angua bounded over the fallen Carrot, pursuing Rincewind down Filigree Street. Pushing past a crowd of people gathered around a soapbox, Rincewind turned up towards the Brass Bridge. 

There was the gentle sound of dice, drowned out by the roar of the mob.

An unattended horse stood placidly by some shop or other. Snatching up the reigns and heaving himself onto its back, Rincewind urged the thing into a gallop towards the Bridge, aiming for the Gate out of Ankh-Morpork. 

* Well, _attempted _murder

** _Portus exitus_, or, the common doorway.

*** You didn't survive very long if you didn't know where to look for things like that.

Author Note- I do not own Discworld or the Discworld game, nor do I own Rincewind, no matter how much I want to. Thanks for all who read this, my first official Discworld fanfiction. Do come back again!


	2. Runaway Rincewind

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Wizzardly Accusations

Chapter Two- Runaway Rincewind

The horse galloped down the Brass Bridge, parting the crowd as it sped through. So much for inconspicuous, really. With a grim sort of clarity he realized that every member of the Watch within running distance would be there in a disturbingly short amount of time. On top of that, he'd have Assault of a Watch member, Resistance of Arrest, and gods knew what else Carrot could pull out of his little book on top of the attempted murder accusation… and this time they'd actually be able to really _prove _that it was him. Things were, indeed, shaping out to be a very bad day. 

The Gate had opened to let in a slow-moving cart and was just ready to close. Rincewind tried to get the horse to go faster, but the blasted thing was already panicking beyond any hope of steering. It plunged blindly forward, heading in generally the right direction. Of course, with the throng of people on the Bridge, the donkey-drawn carts, and the general hubbub, the Watch would have an interesting time catching up to him on foot. Nothing parted a crowd like a stampeding horse.*

He was gaining swiftly on the Gate. The guards had, unfortunately, spotted him, and were shouting at each other. It wasn't particularly difficult, as the blasted horse was leaving a trail of confusion, chaos, destruction, and offenses behind it. 

_Oh, bugger… I'm just racking up the sodding offenses, aren't I? _he thought grimly. If he did, by some incredible miracle, manage to get out of this with most of his limbs intact, it would be just that… a miracle. 

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Rincewind urged the horse on faster, hoping that he could make it to the Gate before the guards decided to close it. The Gate was two hundred yards away… one-fifty, one hundred… then only fifty yards…

"Oy! Close it! 'Urry up! Cl'se it now!"

The heavy doors began to grind shut. In desperate panic, Rincewind dug his heels further into the horse's flanks, frightening the poor beast even more. The horse was beyond being controlled- it took most of his efforts just to stay on the blasted thing. 

The horse suddenly stumbled, giving Rincewind the distinct impression that the world had just dropped out from under his stomach. For a few tense moments, he was nose-to-wet nose with Angua. The look of startled surprise on his face was mirrored in a doggy way on hers. Then, her jaws opened, and she began to lunge forward, straight at Rincewind's face…

And the horse was up and running again, and put on a fresh burst of incredible speed. Its hooves pounded on the Bridge's cobblestones, sending up sparks as it went. People rushed to get to the side of the Bridge, away from the mad horse and its equally mad rider, who, due to the situation, looked like a daring desperado, his golden-brown** hair flying in the wind, a look of defiance on his face…

Well, that's how it was remembered, anyway. In truth, Rincewind looked rather like he had an awful stomachache and his blasted hair kept getting in his face. He really wanted his hat… at least it would've kept the sun out of his eyes.

Then, there was a dull boom as the Gate's doors slammed into its frame. 

Unfortunately, Rincewind was only about seven yards away from the blasted thing when it closed. A closed door was, by all means, a very good way to stop a person from leaving. This, much to Rincewind's irritation, included him. Too bad the horse showed no signs of stopping- at least not until the last sodding second. Rincewind suddenly had a predictive flash. He saw himself being thrown from the horse's back when it stopped, and he saw himself ending up being very hatless, if only because he wouldn't have anything to put the hat _on _when Angua caught him.

So, the logical thing in that situation was to not get caught. However, that seemed to be easier said than done.

At least the horse knew what it was doing. Before the Gate, it spun, and galloped _back _down the Bridge, running over a few beggars as it did so. There was a general cry of protest as feet were trod on, bystanders were shoved into objects, usually hard and pointy ones, and as general chaos ensued. 

Rincewind was mentally ticking off the offenses he had managed to gather up at that point. It was depressingly long. Carrot could probably nail him with a few he hadn't thought of, too, just by opening to a random page in that sodding book of his.

The horse actually managed to get back down the Bridge faster than it had originally gotten up it. It skidded around a corner, and as it did, something sliced through the air above his head, and embedded itself in the door of a shop. It was a crossbow bolt.

_I'm wanted that badly, then? _Rincewind thought with surprising calmness. _This is definitely filed under 'Not Good'._

Filigree Street was a straight sprint. Angua, who had somehow managed to keep up with Rincewind and the mad horse, began to fall behind. Wolves were definitely sprinters, and this chase looked like it was going to go cross-country. 

Rincewind passed Baker's Street, and headed for Short Street, which was right by the Mended Drum. There was _always _a crowd by the Drum, so the Watch might get lost in the mob, with Rincewind was lucky.

Once in the crowd, the horse had problems turning, and began to slow down, despite it being kicked in the ribs repeatedly. It had been shot at, terrified, and was tired, and wasn't about to take any lip from some smart-arse human in a pointy hat. It walked through the mob towards the stables, ignoring Rincewind's protests.

Then, Rincewind managed to snatch a well-sharpened and notably _pointy _sword from a random stranger… and promptly jabbed the horse in the rump.

Crude, of course, but highly effective.

With a burst of speed, the horse galloped frantically down Short Street. It flew past The Lees, blew past Smittles Way, and burst past Skittles Alley. However, it wasn't the only thing to burst past. 

The Watch wasn't stupid, after all.*** 

__

Angua had taken a short-cut down Baker's Street, and, with most of the Watch, had made a well executed attempt to cut him off before the huge crowd in the upcoming markets. 

Crossbow bolt whizzed through the air, startling Rincewind, the poor horse, and the random person who was just minding his own business. With a sharp tug on the reigns, Rincewind tried to pull the horse over onto God Street, where there were an impressively convenient amount of alleyways and holes for runaways to hide in.

And, through it all, he was still expecting to hear the sound of hundreds of running feet. 

Where was that blasted Luggage, anyhow? 

Unfortunately, that last idea didn't have much time to be considered. The horse turned so sharply that Rincewind nearly slid off the side. He clung to the horse's neck, the reigns forgotten, hoping that he just wouldn't hit the cobblestones. There was a sudden _whooosh _above his head, and another bolt bounced off of a brick wall. 

_Whooosh._

This time, however, the bolt was aimed a bit lower, and buried itself with a sickening thud in the horse's side, just in front of Rincewind's knee. The horse went down like, well, a dead horse. And Rincewind suddenly found himself flying three feet above the cobblestones, and falling. 

A loud crack and a dull thud echoed down the street as Rincewind hit the cobblestones and bounced, leaving a splattering of red blood where a stone had cut him from temple to temple across his forehead…

And then, somewhere else…

"It would appear, my Lady, that your roll for reflex was not sufficient this time," Fate's endless eyes had a sparkle of amusement as he said this. It was always a pleasure to win over the Lady, even in small victories.

"The game is not won yet, lord," she replied. "Watch the game carefully. There is much that could be accomplished by the pieces."

"Yet what can a pawn do against the might of a queen?" Fate asked, turning the dice in his hands. He preferred a chess game to a game of dice. The Lady always threw the dice in the places that he couldn't quite see. 

"That remains to be seen, doesn't it?" the Lady responded archly. "But now it is time to roll."

So Fate rolled… he rolled an eight.

* Unless, of course, you had many stampeding horses. 

** It is a well-known fact that _all _brave desperados, valiant warriors, etc., had hair with adjectives attached. There's never a hero who has mouse-brown hair.

*** Well, not anymore, at least. 

[A/N- I have returned! Rincewind and the Disc still belong to Pterry, unfortunately… oh well. Anyway, thanks to all the wonderful reviewers out there… And for all of you potential reviewers, give me some concrit, please! You know you want to.]


	3. In Which the Plot Thickens

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Wizzardly Accusations

Chapter Three- In Which the Plot Thickens 

Dunmanifestin was the haven of the gods. It was perched upon Cori Celesti, the tallest mountain on the Disc. It was the gods' holy city, and was had the appropriate accessories for one. The buildings were white and graceful, the gates were of glimmering gold and glittering pearl, and it was, in general, a very expensive-looking place.

However, most of the gods gathered in one place- the game room. It was where the dice games, chess games, the games with living pieces were played. It was where Fate favored himself (as he tended to do) and the Lady rolled where no one could see. 

There was a game being played- the Lady against Fate. It was sure to be an interesting one. 

Rincewind heard voices around him. He had just flown about ten feet through the air, bounced for another ten, and came to a stop with a throbbing head and a new bruise. All in all, it could've been worse, although he really didn't feel like exploring those possibilities right then. 

"We ought to get him to Igor, shouldn't we?" said a female voice that was rather attractive. "Oh, thank you, Carrot." There was the sound of people turning around and of clothes being donned. Then, there was a somewhat reluctant agreement, and Rincewind found himself picked up by…well, someone. He hadn't opened his eyes yet, and wasn't about to. 

At that opportune moment, Rincewind finally passed out.

When he awoke, he was lying on a cot somewhere cool and dark. His head still throbbed, but it had ceased to bleed. Rincewind mentally checked for all of his limbs, and found them intact. He felt his forehead, and found that the wound had been closed with expertly done stitches. A familiar tremor of fear rippled through him.

He was in the care of Igor, the Watch's personal surgeon. Rincewind wondered just how one would go about checking to see how many spleens they had. Or, if they still had one. 

You just never knew with Igors.

Rincewind opened his eyes, and screamed. It calmed him down quite a lot.

"Thut up already," came a voice from the corridor. There was a shuffling sound, and Igor's face came into view. Fortunately, it was behind a set of bars. Or in front of them, as the case happened to be, since Rincewind was the one in the cell.

"How are you feeling?" Igor asked politely. "Any aches? Anything bleeding? Anything needing thitches?"

"I think I might be sufficiently stitched, thanks," Rincewind replied, and clapped a hand over his wound, afraid that Igor might get it into his head to redo them.

Igor shrugged. "Whatever you say." He left, much to Rincewind's relief. Unfortunately, he left to get Vimes, who was possibly the _last _person he really wanted to see.

"Up you get, wizard," Vimes said, and opened the cell. Carrot had accompanied him, and Rincewind could just see the figure of Angua in the hall. 

"Vetinari wants to see you," Vimes said as he snapped the handcuffs around Rincewind's unprotesting wrists. "We won't keep him waiting, will we?" There was a slight hint of a threat there, which clearly said that there was no funny business to be had. And absolutely no more horse thefts, thank-you-very-much.

Rincewind sighed. All right, _Vetinari _was the last person he wanted to see. Vetinari was the last person _anyone _would want to see, once you got down to it. He had a reputation of tossing people in scorpion pits and rat-filled dungeons*.

That was how Rincewind found himself standing before the desk of the Patrician, his ankles sweating and completely hatless. Vetinari wasn't even _looking_ at him yet. He was just writing on some note for something** in that unnervingly calm way that he did everything. That, however, was not the reason for Rincewind's discomfort. Well, not all of it.

There was something about the Oblong Office that was extremely disconcerting. Rincewind scanned the room, trying in vain to pinpoint the source. There was a bookcase filled with texts on assassination and politics, there were ornate candlesticks on the desk, there was the desk itself… but there didn't seem to be anything out of place. Then, he saw it.

It was a mug***. That was odd in itself, because the Patrician could afford china teacups so thin that you could read a book through them. The mug on the desk, however, was a great hulking brute compared to the other delicate and ornate luxuries in the Office. Yet the most striking thing about it was the image painted onto the front. There was a bright yellow face with blank black eyes and a wide black smile. It peered out from its muggy world, its eyes following Rincewind constantly, its happy smile drawn mockingly. The bloody thing was _laughing _at him, he was sure.

Rincewind tore his gaze away from the mug's and found the Patrician watching him with his usual cool stare. He gulped.

"You seem to have gotten yourself into a bit of trouble, Rincewind," the Patrician said calmly while rearranging some paperwork on his desk. "Sir Samuel was not pleased with your behavior. It would seem that you have taken up the hobby of collecting offenses. Horse theft, resisting arrest, assault of a Watch member…" Vetinari looked at Rincewind over steepled fingers. "You are not in a very good position." He opened a drawer in his desk and removed a few items. He placed them on his desk, and slid them over for Rincewind to view.

"Do you happen to recognize any of this?"

Rincewind looked over the objects. There was a sliver of wood that he immediately recognized as sapient pearwood.

_Oh dear._

There was also a yellow star that was covered in sequins.

_Bugger._

Vetinari was still watching him, along with the blasted mug. 

"Ah… well, that is…" Rincewind began, and then realized that lying was bloody pointless. Vetinari already knew the answer anyway, so what did it matter?

"The…er, star… it's my hat's…" he said, and gulped, knowing that he was probably hanging himself. "And… that's a bit of sapient pearwood. My Luggage is made of it…" He felt the noose tighten around his throat.

"Indeed." That was all Vetinari said. 

As it happened to be, Vetinari had more going on in his head than Rincewind could guess. 

Vetinari possessed many useful skills, and one of them happened to be the ability to read people. Not their minds, exactly, but what they freely told through their own actions. When the Patrician looked at Rincewind, he saw… an innocent man who was very confused and slightly harassed, and really just wanted his hat back.

He sighed. Well, some things could be remedied.

Vetinari pulled another item out of the infamous desk drawer, and set it in front of Rincewind. The wizard's eyes grew wide for a moment, and looked at the Patrician in shock.

The battered wizzard hat perched on the desk, partially covering a note that read '_Important!_' and was dated two months ago. It was quickly snatched from the desk and took its former place covering Rincewind's head.

"Now," the Patrician stood, and recollected the evidence. "There is more business to attend to." The desk drawer closed with a snap, and there was the sharp click of a lock. Rincewind's ankles were sweating so much that his shoes were about to slide off.

Vetinari walked over to his bookshelf, and tapped the third book on the fourth self down. Then, he walked calmly to the other side of the room, and rather nonchalantly adjusted a small silver dresser jar so that it caught the light. There was a soft whir, and a secret passageway was revealed in the floor. Stone steps led down into a dark corridor. Vetinari lit a thick white candle, and began to go down the stairs.

"Come." It was an order, not a suggestion. Rincewind came.

Shadows thrived in the hidden corridor. A brief pool of reassuring light came from the Oblong Office, but the secret door soon closed over it. There was only the light from the candle that seemed to outline the darkness more than illuminate it. 

"I would not fall behind," Vetinari said with a quick glance over his shoulder. "Well, no more than two feet, at least." He started down the hall, and then paused to tap the wall before continuing. Rincewind hurried after.

"Erm… sir…"

"Yes?"

"Eh… well, why…?" Rincewind glanced around the hall nervously.

"Simply because I happen to think that you might be innocent," Vetinari replied. "However, Sir Samuel thinks differently. In this matter, you must prove your own innocence, Rincewind. You have one chance. I do hope that you will use it well."

The Patrician led him down the dark hall, its end unknown. 

* He had only done that a few times. It was rather unfair to assume that it happened often.

** It was an extremely important order for more socks. One cannot be the Patrician and successfully run an entire city-state without the adequate amount of socks.

*** It's Merrymoll's mug. It's used with permission, too. See _A Night on the Tiles _and _A Fine Figure in a Nightdress _for more details.

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[A/n- First off, lots of thanks to Merrymoll for letting me use her wonderful mug. Another lot of thanks for my great reviewers, Tindomiel, Ridicully L., Kara Otter, and Merrymoll herself. You guys are great. ^-^ Thanks, all! The next chapter'll be up approximately whenever I can get around to it. Cheers!]


	4. Plots, Plans, or Lack Thereof

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Wizzardly Accusations

Chapter Four- Plots, Plans, or Lack Thereof

Rincewind followed the bobbing circle of light as it went down the corridor. He made sure that he was within the two-foot range as Vetinari skipped, hopped, and tapped walls. Somehow, it was mildly disturbing. Patricians should not skip in _any _situation.

A thought that had been hiding in Rincewind's mind suddenly jumped out from behind his conscience. Rincewind stopped right in the middle of the hall.

"Hey, where's my Luggag-…"

He was interrupted as an arrow whizzed in front of his face. His eyes went crossed for a moment as they attempted to see the mark that it left on his nose. Then, another arrow shot by, and Rincewind was sharply tugged out of its way by the Patrician. He swiftly pushed a pressure pad on the wall, and there was the soft whir of machinery, then a grinding noise, and the arrows stopped flying from holes in the walls. Panels slid back over the holes, and even the seam was lost from sight.

Vetinari was not amused.

"I must have not made myself clear when I said _not _to fall behind," Vetinari said, a touch of irritation in his voice. "Are there any more questions on the consequences of doing so?"

Rincewind was having a few problems finding his voice at that point, and adopted an ancient method of response.

_Shakeshakeshake._

"Capital," the Patrician turned, and continued down the hallway. Rincewind was almost stepping on his heels.

"As for the Luggage," he continued, "it has been secured in a cage of octiron in the Unseen University's most magic-proof room, in efforts to keep it from escaping. I also have heard that the hospital wing of the University suddenly received a large number of students with crushed digits and appendages."

Of course. The wizards _always _used students to test out unpleasant situations, didn't they? 

Rincewind sighed glumly. Now he didn't even have his Luggage, either… He had been trying to get rid of it for a while, but it wasn't the same when somebody took it _away _from him. 

Rincewind sped up as Vetinari hopped from stone to stone on the floor. Soft clicks echoed in the corridor as the machinery disengaged various unpleasant traps.

Vetinari stopped before the door at the end of the corridor, adjusted his robes, and unlocked the door. When it was opened, a rather startling sight met Rincewind's eyes with an optical crash.

The room was scattered with wood, easels, bottles of paint, and other oddities. Giant bat wings were suspended from the ceiling alongside what looked like elephant bones. A score of books were scattered throughout the room, sporting titles like _Thee Booke of Airodinamics _and _Drawing Lyte and Shadowe_. There was also a figure bent over a strange machine that was ticking softly, and then…

_Boom._

The thing exploded upwards, creating a new black splotch on the ceiling. Bits of smoldering paint fell from above as Leonard da Quirm peered at his newest device with a thoughtful look.

"I think I know what I did wrong!" he said, and was about to explain when he noticed Rincewind. He hurried over and pumped Rincewind's hand before beginning to make tea for them all.

"So glad to meet you, it's really a pleasure. Oh, I'll have to make the tea by hand, my lord, since I'm still having a few problems with the Automatic Maker of Tea Device," he explained, and after a few minutes produced three cups of good tea. Vetinari and Rincewind were ushered over to two chairs while da Quirm pulled up a stool.

Vetinari, meanwhile, was idly searching through Leonard's more recent bursts of genius. On one particular sheet of paper, there was a drawing of a leaf in one corner, a picture of a wineglass next to it, and in the bottom corner a labeled drawing of a kind of blowpipe that was mounted in holes in the wall and, instead of darts, fired arrows out at a high speed using stored air. With a quiet sigh, Vetinari set the papers back down on Leonard's cluttered desk. A soft breeze blew through the room.

But the windows were almost closed… but there was always the power of chance.*

A paper caught Vetinari's eye. It was an essay of some sort. At the top of the page in large spidery script were the words _The Theory of Library-Space_.

"Leonard," he said, "what is this?"

Leonard looked over the Patrician's shoulder, still holding a cup of tea.

"Oh, just an idea I had," he replied, "dealing with the theory that all libraries are connected. That equation there," he pointed to said equation, "is the base of the whole thing."

_Knowledge = Power = Energy = Matter = Mass = L-Space Distortions_

Rincewind peered over Leonard's shoulder and paled when he read the title of the article. He began to choke on his tea and had to be pounded on the back before he could get back his breath.** 

"Might you know anything about this Library Space, Rincewind?" the Patrician asked, turning his unnervingly cool gaze back onto the wizard. 

"Eh…er, well, I was the assistant librarian for a while," he replied, paling even further. "It's, well, supposed to be rather _secret, _really…"

"Is it? Do tell," Vetinari said. 

Rincewind gulped. "All libraries are, um, connected by a link, and can, er, be navigated through by other, erm, librarians and sometimes research students, uh, but they get lost, the students, I mean, not the librarians," he stopped for a breath at this point, "Or, well, the librarians could get lost too, er, but it doesn't happen often, and the link, um, goes to, er, pretty much any other library that's big enough, um, sir."

It took Vetinari a few moments to sort through Rincewind's babble and discern anything of importance.

"Rincewind, do you realize what this might prove?" 

"Not really."

Vetinari forced himself to be patient. "Your room is situated near the library, correct? Which, in turn, has one of its entrances nearest the student's hidden passage over the wall?"

"Erm… yes…" Rincewind replied slowly, trying to see where the conversation was headed.

"Now, suppose the assassin came from the library. He would have easy access to your room, thus being able to take your hat to frame you with. He could also escape through the student's entrance and from there come to the Palace," the Patrician explained with the slight air of someone explaining something to a small child. "With such a deduction, there is only one item left a mystery." 

"The Luggage," Rincewind said, beginning to catch on.

"Indeed."

Leonard, who had been listening to the conversation up to that point, quickly set down his teacup and cleared his throat.

"The Agatean Empire," he said with enthusiasm, "has a large number of sapient peartrees, as I am sure that you are aware."

Vetinari looked over at him. "So it does, Leonard. A vital point, indeed."

"Although, of course, this does not necessarily mean that the attacker is Agatean," Leonard continued, and thoughtfully tapped his chin with a pen. "Surely there are ships that have reached the Counterweight Continent, where a chest of sapient pearwood would be easily attained."

Rincewind nodded as though he understood completely, despite the fact that he really didn't.

"Then we are, in fact, back to where we started on this last point," Vetinari said and rested his chin on his hands. With a sigh, he stood and dusted himself off.

"Will there be anything that you need, Leonard?" he asked. 

"I seem to have run out of Jade Green paint, my lord," Leonard replied, absent mindedly doodling on a handy piece of paper. "And I believe that I need more springs, as well. The little ones."

"Of course," Vetinari replied as he walked towards the door. "They shall be sent immediately. Good day, Leonard."

Good day, my lord," Leonard said. "And to you, too, Master Rincewind."

"Erm, yes, well, good bye," Rincewind responded awkwardly, hurriedly setting down his teacup. He followed the Patrician out of Leonard's room, and along the dark corridor. Silence echoed about the hall. There was a lot to think about, but nothing to speak of, after all.

Eventually the Patrician and the wizard reached the Oblong Office. It was quiet and undisturbed, everything in its place in just the right way as to inspire discomfort in its visitors. They stepped into the room and stood. Rincewind glanced around nervously, still slightly confused over the previous discussion with Leonard. He watched his feet as they scuffed on the carpet. When he raised his eyes again, he found the Patrician's cool gaze on him, and gulped.

"This, I believe, is when I let you go," Vetinari said, "wherever you wish. You have all the information that I can give. Do with it as you see fit." He turned to a bookshelf and peered bemusedly at the titles on the spines. After a moment, he carefully selected a book bound in blue cloth, pulled out another book bound in red, and switched the two. There was a brief silence, and then the familiar whir of machinery. A hidden doorway opened.***

"If you would proceed down this corridor you will find yourself near the Mended Drum," Vetinari explained. "It will be as good a place as any for you to begin your… investigation."

Rincewind nodded numbly, staring down the secret hall. It was just as creepy, dank, and dark as the other had been, only more so. And, realizing that he had no choice anyway, Rincewind stepped into the hall. 

"Oh, and don't forget to thump the wall by the third statue," the Patrician said just before the door slid shut, leaving Rincewind in almost complete darkness.

* The power of chance was the kind that allowed that one vital clue to be found under, say, a stack of cluttered and hopelessly disorganized papers that had been piling up for a very, _very_ long time or under a pile of rubble after the Alchemist's Guild blew itself up again.

** He found it hiding under the table.

*** There were so _many _of the buggers hidden throughout the Palace, and the Patrician knew about all of them. Really. 

A/n- Another chapter, in which some things are discovered and others are not. Hope all of you liked it. [Insert plea for reviews here]!


	5. In Which the Plot Thickens Thicker

[A/n- This, I think, should go before even the title. It's a big thanks to Blasted Sweaty Ankles, who most politely pointed out Rincewind's magic Teleporting Hat. On accident I wrote that Rincewind had his hat, even though he left it in his room at the beginning. My plan was for it to have been taken as evidence and given to the Patrician on his request, but apparently it got messed up somewhere between my brain and my fingers. So, thanks again, BSA! On with the story.]  
  
Wizzardly Accusations  
  
Chapter Five- In Which the Plot Thickens Thicker  
  
The door slid over the entrance to the secret passageway. Once seeing that Rincewind was clearly on his way, Vetinari sat down at his desk to examine his paperwork. He had taken a large bit of time out of his schedule to speak with Rincewind and Leonard. Little murders happened all the time, but the murder of a Patrician, especially one like Vetinari, happened once in a lifetime. [1] Of course, it was only an attempt, but the idea was still there.  
Apparently, Vetinari had made an enemy who was reasonably intelligent, if his assassins were anything to judge. It took a special kind of cleverness to get in and out of the Palace alive and with most limbs relatively intact. Perhaps, though, you shouldn't judge a man by his employees.  
Vetinari began to read a document that sat on his desk. It was a list of notable deaths in the city. The list was rather long, of course, because of the large amount of murders that happened already. As he scanned the list, one name stood out in particular.  
Emily Jenkins.  
The name was very familiar, in a vague sort of way. He got no further than that, however, because at that very moment the doors opened. Drumknott stepped through.  
"Sir Samuel is here to see you, my lord," he said. Vetinari blinked. People usually came when they were called, not before.  
"Very well," he replied after a moment's consideration. "Send him in."  
When Vimes entered, Vetinari steepled his fingers.  
"Do take a seat," the Patrician said, more out of habit than the actual thought of being obeyed. Vimes, of course, stood, and did not take a seat.  
"Why might I have the privilege of seeing you again today, Commander Vimes?" Vetinari asked, watching Vimes.  
"There's been a murder," Vimes replied.  
"Do be specific on which murder, Vimes," Vetinari shuffled a few papers on his desk.  
"Emily Jenkins. One of the maids here in the Palace. She was found in a linen closet a bit ago with multiple stab wounds, and was very definitely dead."  
Thoughts began to bump around in the Patrician's head, connecting certain pieces and moving others around until...  
"Interesting. Do look into it," Vetinari tapped a pen on his desk idly, placing more pieces of the puzzle together in his mind. "Don't let me detain you."  
Vimes opened his mouth to reply, and then thought better of it. The Patrician did, of course, know more than he was letting on to, but that was generally the case in most things anyway. It was his Palace, too, so he might as well have his way for what goes on in it.  
The wall outside the Oblong Office was still going to need some re- plastering, though.  
  
Rincewind walked as cautiously as he could through the half-light of the corridor while feeling his way along the wall. After what seemed like an eternity but was really only about seven and a half minutes he felt the first statue. Another three minutes later there came the second statue, and four minutes later Rincewind tripped over his own feet and only found the wall again by flailing his arms and getting lucky. A moment after that his head connected very suddenly with the arm of the third and final statue. Once the dancing lights and stars went away, Rincewind thumped the wall less than enthusiastically. There was a brief shuddering click, and then a grinding noise up at the ceiling. The dirty light associated with Morpork filtered down through a rough square above. An old rope ladder unrolled from somewhere in the shadows. In the new grimy light Rincewind couldn't help but notice that the corridor ended suddenly about two feet after the statue with a kind of spiky wall mounting that was either very rusty or covered with something it was best not to think about.  
"Oh, wonderful," he muttered, his voice smothered by the shadows outside the patch of light. He reluctantly gripped the ladder, and began to climb, praying to whatever god might care that it wouldn't break.  
Fortunately, it didn't. Unfortunately, Rincewind emerged from the hole next to the dunny by the Mended Drum. It wasn't as bad as falling. It was worse. [2]  
Adaptation, however, is a wonderful thing. However bad the smell might be (it gave Foul Ole Ron's smell a run for its money), it wasn't as bad as it would have been if Rincewind had had a halfway decent sense of smell to begin with. All Morporkians would be hard-pressed to smell a burning feather mattress at three feet.  
After stumbling out of the alleyway with a hand pressed over his abused nose, Rincewind found his feet guiding him towards the Unseen U. Having no reason to stop them, he followed, walking up to the Plaza and over to the student's entrance. The unmortered stones lifted free easily enough, and the climb was easy from years of comings and goings. Rincewind had a vague uneasy feeling, though, because it was like sneaking into your own house and finding that you aren't supposed to be there. He didn't even know why he was going back. There was bound to be some wise-arse that would turn him over to Vimes. There always was.  
The halls of the University were empty, though. The wizards were all off eating dinner, most likely, or asleep somewhere with their hats over their faces. This gave Rincewind the opportunity to run off to the Library, which was the only place he was sure that he wouldn't be beaten, chased, shot at, or otherwise harassed by other Homo sapiens. [3]  
The Library was an exceptionally large building, generally because the inside was bigger than the outside. The Librarian's desk sat in its usual spot, although the orangutan was absent. A ring of keys lay on the desk as well, and Rincewind took them without really thinking about it. He really should have. After a moment, a thought entered his head very carefully, as not to break anything. The wizard turned, and looked at the stairs leading down into the cellars. They were the deepest parts of the University, and were full of magic-proofed rooms and those interesting books that would ignite if not kept constantly on ice.  
The steps down were dark and dank and quiet. A flickering glow lit them from an unidentified source. The room at the bottom was lined with doors, all of them branching out to Somewhere Else. The wrong door would lead to some part of L-Space, and would probably end up looping back on itself infinitely. It was time for some luck.  
A soft breeze began to blow, a breeze which failed to stir one particle of dust, but kicked up blue sparks and the oily, tinny smell of magic. Along with it, there was the sound of either bones bouncing or dice rolling.  
Rincewind tried one of the doors. It was locked. He tried one key in the lock, then another, until a tiny brass one finally turned, and the door swung open. Inside, there were plenty of shadows, but only one cage of faintly glowing octiron.  
Somehow, it was slightly anti-climatic.  
In the glowing cage, the Luggage squatted in glowering silence, staying as far away from the actual metal as was possible for piece of luggage. It was even standing on a bit of faded reddish cloth to avoid touching the magic-resistant floor.  
"What happened to always-following-my-master?" Rincewind looked down at the Luggage, who had the sense to look as embarrassed as was woodenly possible. Then he reached down to pry open the cage door.  
There came the sharp crackle of a magical field, and octarine sparks flew from all around the cage. A stinging jolt of energy shot down Rincewind's arm, causing him to jump back in pain. Rincewind fell, knocked off-balance by the sudden activation of the spell. The cage door swung open on hinges that were beyond silent.  
Somewhere above, a gong rung with a deep clang.  
"Great," Rincewind muttered, and looked at the ceiling. "A trap." The sounds of heavy footfalls filtered down through layers of rock and plush carpet.

[1] The question was, however, exactly whose lifetime we're talking about here.

[2] Think of it like this: Take an egg. Place it carefully on the pavement. Take a sledgehammer. Walk up a three story building. Carefully hold the sledgehammer over the egg. Drop the sledgehammer. See?

[3] Orangutans, homicidal books, and things best not thought about had a free rein, however.

[Yet another A/n- All right, first thing's first. With this new-fangled preview/edit system, I can't put in the little astericks, 'cuz apparently they keep getting deleted when I try to put 'em in. So, I have now adopted a number system. I liked the astericks better, but it can't be helped.  
Now, it's time to play Thank the Reviewers and Shamelessly Grovel for more reviews! The rules: the starving author must grovel before the amazing reviewers whom have graced her with their wit and con crit! Ready? Go!  
**Starving Author:** grovels before mighty Reviewers Thank you, oh wonderful and uber-spiffy reviewers! You are all amazing, wonderful, incredibly good-looking and undoubtedly the most witty people ever! Please grace me with more of your comments! bows and grovels   
- But seriously, folks, thanks for all your help and comments. You are all really cool and spiffy.]


	6. LSpace and What Lies Therein

Wizzardly Accusations

Chapter Six- L-Space and What Lies Therein

The heavy footfalls grew closer, and, though try as he might, Rincewind just couldn't open the door. It was locked by magic, and was thus unsusceptible to pleading, cajoling, frustration, and heavy pounding.

"Blasted door!" Rincewind cried, sucking at a bruised fist. He turned to the Luggage in irritation. "Take you time, of course! It's not like we're in a pressing situation or anything!" The Luggage had the decency to look embarrassed for the second time in five minutes. It pulled in its legs and woodenly refused to move.

"Well _you're _being helpful, aren't you," the wizard snapped. "Not that it matters, anyway, because there's nowhere to run but right into whoever's coming." He began to pace in agitation, listening to the steady increase in the volume of the footfalls. The soon became almost deafening, and right outside the door. Voices filtered in, as if from a long way away.

_"I told you we should've put more octiron in there. Very good against magic, octiron."_

"Shut up."

"Maybe a few more locks, too."

"Shut up."

"And…"

"Shut up!"

"Shutting up."

It sounded suspiciously like the babbling of wizards, and for a very good reason, too.

It was.

There was a quiet popping noise, and a barely-seen flash of octarine light. A key scraped in the lock, and Rincewind turned towards the sound, tense and waiting for whatever was to walk through that doorway. The door swung open soundlessly, and standing there was…

Ridcully.

Rincewind blinked. Whatever he had expected, the Archchancellor was not it. Apparently, whatever the Archchancellor had been expecting was not Rincewind, either. Ridcully seemed to have a problem finding something to say, as did the wizards that were assembled behind him. Eventually, he came up with one of the least brilliant comments in the history of witty retorts.

"_Rincewind?_"

The wizards behind him began to whisper among themselves, mostly in confusion, partly because they were wizards and liked to hear themselves speak.

_"He was arrested, wasn't he?"_

"Broke out, I'd imagine. Never trusted him. Looked too much like a rat."

"…He kind of does, if you turn your head and squint a bit…"

Rincewind heard the comments, of course. A wizard's voice always had a nice carrying quality to it, which was good for yelling at students and yelling at normal people, but not for much else.

In his battered soul, the worm of rebellion bared its fangs and growled. He had had quite enough, thank-you-very-much. Enough of all of the mistrust and the adventures and all those wizards just sitting around with all that magic and doing _absolutely nothing _with it.

He was damned if he would let them take him like this.

"Rincewind, what in bloody hell are you doing here?"

"Leaving," he replied, and got down into a track start.

The wizards were confronted with a very interesting situation. Normally they would've just cast up a few fireballs and called it a day. But in magic-proofed cellars, one miscast spell could result in a very messy situation. Now, as it were, they were a bunch of fat men faced with one very thin but very fit man ready to run _through _them if there was no other immediate option. This thought weighed very heavily on the minds of those up towards the front.

Ridcully was beginning to regret sending his favorite crossbow off to get a new string.

Rincewind tensed, and the Luggage pulled out its legs, ready to trample anyone who happened to be unfortunate enough to get under it. The wizards began to scramble backwards, trying to pile out of the way as fast as they could. They wouldn't be wizards if they couldn't see a _little _way into the future.

Rincewind pushed off, using a bit of uneven flagstone for leverage, and bolted through the door almost, but not quite, entirely unlike greased lightning. He bounded up the stairs, the Luggage pounding behind.

The senior wizards of the University followed Rincewind, although a lot slower and with more complaining and threats of fireballs and other vaguely nasty things.

The failed wizard burst into the Library like a bat out of hell [1], turned a quick corner, and skidded into a bookshelf. With a quick duck Rincewind managed to barely avoid a homicidal book from biting off his head. He stumbled away from the shelf, and the offended book [2] jerked on the end of its thick chain before settling back in its slot, glowering. Rincewind decided that this would be a good time to continue running.

After a time, he stopped and listened. At first he could only heard the rustling of book pages and the soft crackle of random magical energy, and then…

_"We shouldn't go much further, Wrangler."_

"He'll be lost in there anyway. It's too deep into L-Space past here. He'll end up in the Dungeon Dimensions, mark my words."

"…All right. Let's get back to dinner. It's veal tonight."

"Has anyone tried the black pudding?"

"It's very good, really, I had some earlier…"

Rincewind heaved a sigh of relief, and leaned against what he thought would be a bookcase. Unfortunately for him, it was actually three miles away, but only looked like it was up close.

That was L-Space for you.

The wizard picked himself up off the floor, and cautiously kept going. It wasn't like he had any choice, anyway; the way behind was blocked, and the only way to go was forward, no matter how weird it might be.

Rincewind walked around a bookcase that seemed to stretch off infinitely into the distance, but ended in two steps. A small herd of thesauri grazed peacefully on misspelled words. A slightly spiny thing Rincewind suspected to be a Book Critique ambled off a few feet and disappeared with a sound like 'parp'. Rincewind stepped carefully around the thesauri and began to walk down a rather short aisle. The Luggage followed, and Rincewind didn't even bother to turn around when he heard the sound of torn pages.

A Biography thundered by one self over and twenty-three miles away before suddenly disappearing and then reappearing on top of another bookshelf. The shelf itself, however, was two inches wide and still large enough to hold a three ton slightly confused Biography.

He walked for another half-hour before reaching the end of the short aisle. At his feet, there lay a pen. It was so resolutely normal that it was unbelievably odd. Rincewind prodded it with his foot, just to make sure it wouldn't sprout legs and bite his kneecaps off. It didn't.

About twenty yards to the left, if distance was being reasonably sane right then, someone disappeared around a corner. Thus, Rincewind was left with two obvious options. He could either follow the retreating figure towards possible death, or he could keep going randomly through L-Space towards possible death.

Rincewind turned to look down an aisle that appeared perhaps two seconds before. His view was blocked by a tall figure in a black robe with a scythe of proverbial sharpness.

"I was wondering when you'd show up."

Death nodded in acknowledgement, but remained silent, holding a lifetimer in one bony hand. Rincewind couldn't help but notice that there wasn't much sand left in the top of it.

"So…" Rincewind said awkwardly. "Which way are you going?"

I WILL BE AT THE END OF ALL ROADS, RINCEWIND.

"…Right," he shuffled his feet, looking back at where the figure had gone. "Might as well get it over with, then…"

He began to follow the figure, to whatever end and whoever was waiting there. Death watched him hurry off, and said, in his leaden voice like the slamming of coffin lids,

DRAT.

[1] Pretty close description, really.

[2] _The Resource Booke of Bloody Mad People_

[A/n- Hello again, mighty readers! I have but one plea- read and review! Oh, yes, and enjoy the update, too. Took long enough, eh?]


	7. Beyond the Rabbit Hole

Wizzardly Accusations

Chapter Seven- Beyond the Rabbit Hole

Rincewind followed the figure as it walked among the aisles, rather grateful to be away from Death, who wasn't really very good company to the living. (1) The figure he was following suddenly disappeared from view, and Rincewind, looking ahead, found that this was because the floor dropped off at a very sharp angle an undefinable distance ahead. Once he did reach it, he peered over the edge and saw that it wasn't an edge at all. It was the floor, and he was somehow standing on the wall.

"What the…"

There was the unpleasant sound of the universe suddenly catching on, and what was Rincewind's idea of down was vetoed for a different one. The wizzard reeled as the floor became a wall, and ended up falling on his face. He stood up just in time to dodge the Luggage as it jumped down from the wall, having somehow avoided the universe's notice by considering it a floor, too. (2)

Rincewind adjusted his battered hat, dusted himself off, and looked for the figure he was supposed to be pursuing. Finding that the figure had most definitely disappeared, he decided to fall back on one of the few skills he possessed- random wandering. He continued on in the general direction of forward, which might have been ahead of him or perhaps behind. Either way, he came upon one very strange thing, even for L-Space. It was a window.

It wasn't just any window, either. It was a window that wasn't connected to a wall, but was merely floating innocently off to the side. Rincewind couldn't help taking a glance in it. He then downright stared.

When he looked in the window, he saw himself staring back, and got the strange, distinct idea that that Rincewind was the same as him, and that the Rincewind that was peering into the window on the wall behind the other Rincewind was actually him peering in on himself, but was at the exact same time _entirely different people. _After getting the impression that realities were currently twisting around themselves, in a very disturbing way, Rincewind abruptly pulled back from the window. Some things just weren't worth it. The merging of different universes was one of them, even if it might've given Rincewind the change to finally meet that lucky Rincewind he knew existed in time to get a sharp object. 

He hurried away from the strange window, continuing on in a forward direction that he hoped was actually forwards. As he looked further into the distance, he saw the figure once again. It had stopped by a row of bookshelves, and, even as Rincewind broke into a jog, then a run, it never came any closer.

Then, suddenly, he felt an odd tingle run from his hat to his shoes, and brilliant octarine sparks shot out from the magical interface, and then Rincewind went from L-Space to Normality in less than a second. The Luggage followed at a much slower pace- magic didn't affect sapient pearwood, after all, and neither did this. Because of the sudden change in normality, the force of it sent the wizzard flying forwards, and this time the figure did, in fact, get closer. Very rapidly.

Rincewind cannoned quite literally into the figure, which gave a yelp of surprise and pain at being suddenly hit into by a startled wizzard. Rincewind landed face up on the wood floor, hatless, staring at the ceiling and trying to assemble his thoughts into something coherent. While he was trying to regain something resembling sanity, the figure he had crashed into was already on its feet. Rincewind glanced over, and his hands flew almost on their own at first to his head, searching for the hat that lay a few feet away, then he lunged for his precious hat.

A slim hand darted down, snatching the wizard hat just before its owner reclaimed it. Rincewind found himself staring at a pair of delicate feet in equally delicate sandals, then his eyes pulled themselves up to the hem of a robe sewn with gold thread, then up the intricately embroidered robe to the wrists adorned with jade bracelets, and then to the nametag written in…pictograms. Agatean… pictograms, ones which meant 'Librarian'. Rincewind gulped. And here he had thought his day couldn't get any worse.

The wizzard looked up at the girl. Her face was round and pleasant, with little wire glasses and dark, slanted eyes. She had pulled her straight black hair up into a tight bun, and, for reasons unknown to Rincewind, had stuck little colored sticks in it. They were a bit thicker than the hair-stick-things he had seen on his last visit to the Empire. The Librarian couldn't have been older than eighteen, and she wasn't paying Rincewind the least bit of attention. She had a considerable amount of attention, an almost needle-point gaze not unlike Vetinari's, only to a far lesser extent. She was currently focusing only on the battered hat, or, more precisely, the scorched and faded lettering on the hat.

"Might you actually be the Great Wizard?" she asked very softly.

"Erm…" Rincewind slowly climbed to his feet, and brushed the dust off his robes. "Yes. Sort of. In a way."

"Then you already know that you're in grave danger," she said, dusting the hat off very carefully. She handed it back to him.

"Really?" he said, then added, "I'm not surprised."

"I have much to explain to you," she continued. "My name is Jade Flower. Come with me."

Rincewind stopped dead in his tracks. This card had been played too many times before- after all, who would trust some random person? She was suspicious, anyway. Who just wandered around L-Space, even if she was a Librarian? It didn't fit.

"Let me put it this way," she said. "It's either follow me or go back into L-Space. I know the way through my Library to yours, Great Wizard, information which I obtained at my peril. Do you?"

He hesitated. Sure, he didn't know the way back and doubted if he'd be able to find it, but still… it might end up being better than following her. Then again, it might not. That's how things were in L-Space. He thought of Death, and his little message of gloom and doom. How long would this road go?

He sighed inwardly. Still, going back to unfamiliar L-Space was generally considered suicide. He really didn't have much of a choice.

"Fine. Fine, I'll come with you."

"Good," there was a hint of a smile on her face. "Follow me. And be silent. I do not want to have to explain this…event to the guards."

Without another word, she turned and began to walk out of the aisle of books and scrolls. Rincewind shook his head, following behind Jade Flower. He thought as he walked, replaying the conversation in his head. This Jade Flower was used to being obeyed immediately and without question. She might be a Librarian, but she sure as hell was something else, too. This was turning into a very complicated game indeed. Rincewind had the distinct impression that he was playing some strange game, but no one had bothered to explain the rules, and when he did figure them out, they changed on him, and still no one said anything…

He shook himself out of those thoughts. It wasn't as though they were going to help him at all.

The Forbidden Palace had changed little from the last time he had been there. There were still the huge jade vases, the empty rooms filled with priceless treasures, the 'nightingale floors' that squeaked as the two of them walked over it. Jade Flower stopped suddenly, her head cocked to one side, listening. Faint squeaks could be heard coming from around the corner ahead. The Agatean Librarian pushed Rincewind roughly behind a vase, and began to look busy reading a scroll she pulled from one of her wide sleeves.

Two guards passed down the corridor, squeaking as they went. As they caught sight of Jade Flower, they immediately know-towed. The one was nearly gibbering. She cast them a vaguely irritated glance, and waved one slim hand. The guards stood and hurried down the corridor without hesitation, seeming to be quite glad to be away from Jade Flower.

Something's rotten in the Agatean Empire.

Rincewind had little time to brood on this, however, since he was snatched out from behind the vase by Jade Flower. She began to walk more quickly through the halls, heading somewhere unfathomable to the wizzard- perhaps his memory of the Palace wasn't as good as he'd thought. (3) Eventually she came up to a rice-paper door, glanced down the hall, and then pulled the door open, dragging Rincewind in as she went.

It was not so much a room as an entire house- there were at least a dozen rooms, all designated to, as it seemed, the Agatean Librarian. There was a sitting room with a huge crimson rug with gold embroidery and a low table on it made of some shiny hardwood with red velvet cushions trimmed with gold tassels. Invaluable tapestries were carefully hung on the rice-paper walls while two delicate china tea cups with an intricate pattern traced in gold and jade sat on the table. Scattered throughout were other luxuries that Rincewind had only read about, and that was only in the one room. As he looked from one room through to others, it seemed like only a few were actually used, while the others were more or less storage for priceless treasures. There was also a gentle tapping sound coming from the paper door, and the silhouette of a tea-girl with a tray.

Jade Flower grabbed Rincewind by the arm and quickly pulled him into another room.

"Stay there!" she hissed. "The walls are paper- you might be seen if you don't stay still. Don't make a sound!" She shoved down hard on his shoulder, pushing him into a crouch behind a sofa before walking back into the other room and delicately readjusting the jewelry on her wrists.

"Enter."

(1) He was famous for it. Or, perhaps, infamous, depending on how you look at it.

(2) Of course, the Luggage managed to carefully avoid the universe's notice in just existing in general, but that never stopped it before.

(3) Not surprising, really, because it was seen while running at a high speed away from guards.

_(A/n- Once again, the editing system-thing is being wacky and won't let me put in brackets now, so I'm down to parenthesis. Parenthesi? Is there a plural to parenthesis? ...Anyway, back to something relevant.  
It took me a while to get this up, I know. Sorry. I'll try to get these out faster, but school's a bum and swim practice is evil, too, and I end up leaving home at 5:30 a.m. and getting back at 7 in the evening dead tired. Not fun. I will try to have the next chapter out soon, though.  
And, as always, feedback is appreciated immensely. And I will give you all cookies, too.)_


	8. The Eighth Chapter

Wizzardly Accusations

Chapter Eight- The Eighth Chapter

Rincewind crouched behind the couch, straining his ears to hear what was going on. He was rather disappointed- it seemed that the figure in the doorway was just a tea-girl, nothing more…

"Leave it there," Jade Flower said. Rincewind leaned out around the couch a bit, to get a better view. He saw two sets of kimono hems, one being gold-embroidered, the other a plain blue. There was the clink of a silver tray on hardwood. As the tea-girl know-towed quickly, a small scroll fell from her sleeve and skidded under the low table. Jade Flower stooped to pick it up, and, very carefully and deliberately, pushed it further under, while sliding a different scroll out of her sleeve and handing that one to the girl.

"Be more careful with your notes. The gossip of servants should be kept to the kitchens."

"My apologies," the girl replied, before backing out of the room and hurrying down the hall.

"You may come out now, Great Wizard," Jade Flower said, and sat down on one of the velvet cushions. Rincewind stood, and, as he turned around, saw something very interesting.

The Luggage, to be precise. Or, to be even more precise, _two _Luggages. The one was slightly larger than Rincewind's Luggage, its wood highly polished and bound in jewel-studded gold and its feet delicate. It looked expensive, aloof, and only slightly less homicidal than the wizzard's Luggage- which it was also ignoring completely.

Rincewind also noticed that it had a chip in it.

He decided that he really wasn't going to ask, and instead went to join Jade Flower at her table. He sat uncertainly down on one of the cushions and she pulled the scroll out from under the table and read it quickly. It then disappeared back into a sleeve.

There was the soft sound of hundreds of light footsteps, and the other Luggage stood next to Jade Flower, looking up expectantly.

"I don't have anyone for you to eat today," she said to it. "Go back to the Emperor, and stay with him. _He's _supposed to be your master, you know."

The Emperor's Luggage turned around and left like it was asked, but Rincewind got the distinct impression that it was rather disappointed it couldn't eat him.

"This would be the time to explain a few things," she then began. "First, some of the events surrounding the…ah, event, shall we say, with the Patrician."

Rincewind said nothing.

"The purpose of the assassination, as far as I know, was not only to kill one of the most powerful men on the Disc, but also to be rid of the most meddlesome and troubling man," she continued, picking up a teapot from the silver tray and pouring it. "You, namely. You have not been forgotten. When Emperor Genghis Cohen was on the throne, you were regarded as a hero. Since Emperor Cohen has left, and Emperor OneSwift River took the throne, you are held in slightly different esteem. After all, who fears the judgement of an Emperor that abandoned the throne? There were hopes that you would be arrested, tried, and hung by your own legal system- you are not popular with some of the noble families."

"Just my luck," he said bitterly, picking up his teacup.

"Don't drink that."

He blinked. "Why?"

"It's poisoned," Jade Flower replied. "Cyanide, I think. Anyway, as I was saying…"

"Someone's trying to poison the _Librarian?_" he said, vaguely shocked. "Isn't that bloody pointless? I mean, usually Librarians are somewhat… expendable."

"Not so much as you think," Jade Flower replied, irritated at being interrupted again. "You might be surprised at what I know. Also, the purpose of the tea was not to be drunk, but so that my… informant might give me this scroll. I will come to it if you would let me continue, _please._"

"Oh. Sorry."

"Now, since the Patrician survived and allowed _you _to be turned loose, the conspirators will be looking for you. After all, you will cause quite a few problems. You always have before," she continued. "And I am privy to very… interesting information concerning the identity of these conspirators."

"Really," Rincewind said rather flatly. "How convenient."

She gave him a sharp look. "It would do you good to remember where you are."

"I'm in a palace hundreds of miles from where I started," he said. "Not like it hasn't happened before. Just tell me what's going on. Talking plainly would be nice, too."

"Very well," she said, nodding. Then she stood, turning away from the wizzard, and appeared to be thinking very hard about something important. After a few moments, she came to a decision. She removed the scroll from her sleeve again, and held it out to Rincewind.

"I assume you can read Agatean script."

He took it, unrolled it, and began to read. Whoever wrote it was messy with a brush. The main details concerned the hiring of a (dash dot squiggle dot dash) (1), with a few objectives that Rincewind was well aware of. The most interesting detail, however, was at the very bottom. Rincewind was very sure that the name signed was 'OneSwift River'.

"The Emperor wanted the Patrician dead and you out of the picture," Jade Flower said, quite unnecessarily. "Then… well, I can only assume after that."

"Er… right." Rincewind was re-reading the note, trying to figure out exactly what (dash dot squiggle dot dash) was.

"From what I know of the Emperor, he's quite a changed man since he took the throne," Jade Flower said, with all the beginnings of a rather long story. "He was, rather oddly, a traveler. He went to various other cities in the barbaric lands- Ankh-Morpork, Quirm, Pseudopolis. I have come to believe they were not for enjoyment, if you follow me. And One Swift River has also tried to play general since his latest visit. I don't know all the details, except that it has to deal with redistribution. Of _troops._"

There was a slight emphasis on that last bit, just to point out the significance of it.

"Um," Rincewind said, "That's not good, is it."

"Not for you," Jade Flower replied. "It's really an incredibly simple plot. Take out the Patrician and the wizard that messed things up for Hong, and then simply walk in and take Ankh-Morpork. He could've literally been sitting in Vetinari's chair before the end of the week."

Rincewind's stomach dropped out from under him. He knew she was right- Ankh-Morpork was what it was _because _Vetinari was there. If he was taken out, the whole machine that was the city would grind to a very messy halt. It would take years of arguments and probably civil war among the Guilds and noble families before someone else managed to drag themselves to the top. And the Agatean Empire was extremely old and powerful already. Their army was huge, disciplined, and experienced. The city would already have been split apart; how hard could it be to take? With Ankh-Morpork under the Empire, supplying it with even more resources, what could stop it? The Empire could encompass the whole Disc.

World domination. The bastards who planned for it were _always _crazy.

Then, a thought nervously stepped into Rincewind's head.

"Why are _you _against this, then? I mean, what have you got to lose?"

"The Disc is really rather large, you know," she replied in an almost offhand way. "It would be impossible to have one person govern the whole thing. Think about it. The Empire would get stretched out, would be too thin. Things would just fall to ruins. I would rather that not happen."

It made sense, yes. But still…

"All right," he said. "Fine. But what do you expect me to do about this? Seems like you'd have to take this one right up to the Emperor."

"Not quite," Jade Flower responded brusquely. "I don't want the Emperor to know about this. He doesn't take kindly to traitors, which is what I'd be seen as. What I want him to do is keep writing his orders and leaving them where they can be collected. Hence what I need you for."

And this was where it started to get bad. (2)

Rincewind sighed. He knew what was coming. He'd get sent off on some difficult and unpleasant errand to find some documents, probably while dodging guards and other nasty things in the process. Great.

"Why can't _you _get them?" He figured he might as well ask.

"I am too closely watched," she replied. "Everyone in the Palace is. That's why I need someone from the outside to do this. I can give you directions, and guide you up to a certain point. After that, things may be jeopardized by my presence."

Rincewind sighed. This was turning out to be a very bad day.

"Where do I need to go first?"

"Our Assassins' Guild is very meticulous with its records," the Librarian replied. "They have three receipts- one given to the client, one kept in the records office, and another kept in a backup filing system. It'd be best to obtain one from the Emperor's files and another from the Assassins'. After that, there are only a few other documents I will need. One of them I will try to get myself."

"Where does the Emperor keep his files…?" Rincewind asked, getting the feeling he wouldn't like the answer.

"His study, located in his personal wing of the Palace," she said. "It will be…difficult to get you in there, but I think I will be able to manage it, so long as things go well."

A question formed in Rincewind's mind, nagging at him until he asked it.

"What happens if things _don't _go well?"

She smiled a smile best described as… toothy, and replied, "Well, let us just hope that things go very well indeed."

He gulped.

"However, you need not leave this moment." She walked over to a desk, and pulled out a scroll, brush, and inkwell. She began to write. "You will need this. If anyone at all questions your presence, hand this to them. They will very quickly leave and pretend they never saw you."

"Uhm… good?"

"This should work unless you are so unfortunate as to come across the Grand Vizier. At that point, no one could save you- this _is _a forgery, after all."

"Wonderful."

Lighting a candle, Jade Flower rolled the scroll up tightly. When the dark blue wax was soft and runny, she let it drip onto the crease, and took a seal from a locked drawer. She pressed it into the wax, leaving a complicated insignia behind. The gold seal disappeared.

When she turned to hand it to him, she hesitated.

"That will not do," she said, indicating his robe and floppy hat. "You're conspicuous. I'll find something somewhere to fit you." She went into another room, and came back holding a robe heavy with embroidery.

"If anyone asks, which they probably won't, you're the head of the tax department from Bes Pelargic," she said, giving him the heavy robe. "And for gods' sakes, take off that hat."

He did so, albeit reluctantly, and shoved it in a pocket it therobeas the Agatean Librarian took things from drawers and put them in a bag, which she affixed somewhere in her robe's pocket.

"I believe I am ready," she said. "Are you, Great Wizard?"

"No."

"Ha," she laughed mirthlessly. "You're humorous, wizard. I hope, for both our sakes, that you will make every effort to become ready before we walk out that door. The guards are changing soon after a long shift, but they won't be tired to the point of stupidity."

She slid open the rice-paper door, and stepped out. Rincewind had no other choice but to follow.

.  
.

(1) Some sort of stylized pictogram.

(2) Well, worse, actually. It had been bad since he woke up.

(A/n- Hello... long time, no update, I know. I try, but I've got crazy stuff like school to do. Sigh. I wish I could write this for a living and actually get paid. Well, I hope y'all liked this one, and I'm working on the next chappie right now... I'll hopefully have it up sometime around the 25th. Ciao!)


	9. Of Receipts, Notes, and Grand Viziers

Wizzardly Accusations

Chapter Nine- Of Receipts, Notes, and Grand Viziers

The nightingale floors squeaked as Jade Flower and Rincewind crossed into another wing of the Palace. The place was silent, except for the squeaking, and the only people seemed to be tea-girls and servants, who walked quickly by with their heads down. The occasional guard passed by. Jade Flower stopped before the turn at the end of a long hall that was disturbingly familiar.

"The door at the end of the hall over there is the Emperor's study. Go two rooms down on the left, and look… well, everywhere. I think it's a rather small room, so you should be able to search it quick and then get the bloody hell out. I'll return to this spot in a half-hour," she said quietly. "Be as quick as you can, all right? And… be careful."

Rincewind gulped, and nodded. The guards were just beginning to change. The two who had stood guard at the Emperor's rooms were walking down the hall to the right, the other two coming down from the same hallway.

Rincewind darted out into the hall and behind a statue as the guards turned towards each other to talk briefly. He peered out from behind the statue, made sure that the guards' backs were turned, or close enough, and rushed down the hall, darting behind various decorations when necessary, trying desperately to keep the floor from squeaking too loudly, but found the heavy footsteps of the guards made it hardly necessary. He reached the door to the Emperor's study. He wondered, briefly, what the punishment for this would be, and decided not to think about it much. It probably wasn't pleasant.

He slid the door open quietly, and darted in. He looked around.

"…This is obviously some definition of the word 'small' that I was previously unaware of," he said to himself. The Emperor's 'study' was a series of three linked rooms filled with desks, cabinets, bookshelves, and, most importantly, _papers. _Well-filed papers, yes, but three rooms devoted to housing them.

Rincewind stepped over to the mahogany desk, pulling his hat out as he did so. He was far more comfortable with it on his head, even though he was currently standing in three rooms of documenting hell. With a sigh of immense irritation, he pulled open one of the desk's drawers, and disemboweled it. Treaties, statements, and edicts drifted onto the floor. The wizard dropped the useless documents into a heap, and opened the next drawer.

Jade Flower watched as the wizard disappeared into the Emperor's study.

"Good," she said to herself. "Onto other things, now." She turned, and began to stroll back towards her apartments.

Things were going ridiculously well. The wizard was helping her, the Emperor was an arrogant, unwitting bastard, and she was still on top. Mostly. She allowed herself, briefly, a giggle. She did _not, _however, cackle.(1)

Once in her rooms, she sat down at the desk, and pulled a scroll from a drawer. Then, brush in hand and inkwell at her wrist, she began to write.

_The winds in the willows stirs candle flames to ash; _

Seven Mighty Spears to take seven thousand soldiers

And prepare the ships in Bes Pelargic.

Signed,

Emperor One Swift River

Jade Flower grinned to herself, and dabbed the wet ink with blotting cloth. Once sufficiently dried, the scroll was rolled up, and sealed with plain whitish candle wax. Very carefully, she dipped her brush in the ink, and let a drop fall onto the scroll near the seal. It looked accidental, and was, to those in the know, the mark of an important document from the Emperor. She set it to the side, making a mental note to send it later.

She then went about the business of creating a copy. For the 'official' records, of course.

Rincewind dug through the drawer in desperation. Two rooms gutted completely, and no Assassination Receipt. There _was _a huge mess, but he seriously doubted it would be of much help.

There was a clunk as his knuckles hit the back of the drawer. There was nothing left to take out, and the third room was up. There was nothing left. It wasn't there, maybe it had never _been _there, and things were seriously beginning to go pear-shaped, and not in a very pleasant way.

He tapped the back of the drawer again. It went clunk.

Thoughtfully, he tapped it a few more times, listening to the strange sound it made.

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Thud.

The back of the drawer fell out. Rincewind's hand scrabbled around in the hidden compartment, and closed around the scroll case it contained. He pulled it out, unscrewed the top, and frantically read the scroll inside that was dated only a few days previous.

_Silence is a treasure greater than gold; _

_Jade Flower to be given stylized pictogram_

_For services to the Throne._

_Signed,_

_Emperor One Swift River_

Underneath the Emperor's signature was another one that was small and somewhat curvy, and most surely said 'Jade Flower'.

Rincewind blinked. _This _was definitely unexpected. And bad. Very, very bad. Carefully, he slid the scroll back into its case, and affixed said case into his hat for safekeeping.

He had the very disturbing feeling that he'd been had. There was no receipt. There never had been a receipt. She had _lied. _And, to top it all off with a cherry, she had been _paid _to lie.

The wizzard stood up very quickly, and hit his head against a bookshelf. A ceramic vase painted with intricate and undoubtedly expensive patterns fell to the floor, where it shattered.

Inside it was a small sheaf of papers, meticulously labeled.

Rincewind peered at them closely, and realized that they were receipts from the Assassin's Guild of Hunghung. He took one of them, which had the Agatean for 'dog-botherer'(2) on it, and put it in a pocket.

He felt acutely like a heel. She hadn't lied at all. Then, he felt acutely panicked, since the rice paper door slid open rather suddenly. Rincewind squeaked, and shoved his rather conspicuous hat up his sleeve.

A figure stepped over a haphazard pile of documents. He was tall and thin, with long hair tied back, and very calm, dark eyes. His robes were weighted down with what looked like several tons of gold and silver ornaments, silks, and brocade. The Emperor was clearly stronger than he appeared, since he could even stand under the sheer tonnage.

"Are you quite finished in here?" he asked, giving Rincewind a slightly irritated look. "I just finished the last of the filing yesterday. I'll have to redo all of it now…" He trailed off, staring at the ceramic vase that lay shattered, and the sheaf of papers that was half-hidden in shards.

He turned sharplyand left the room, an unreadable but terrible expression on his face which had suddenly gone very pale. Scarcely a moment later, two guards rushed in. They had swords drawn, and were unfortunately large and strong.

Rincewind looked around in panic, trying to find any way to escape. He had a considerable amount of rodent in his ancestry, and it was giving him the urge to be somewhere else.

He remembered something. The walls were made of paper. _Paper._ That gave the wizzard an idea that _might _work, if he was exceptionally lucky. He got down to bow, and settled into the perfect position for running. He grinned, although it wasn't a particularly humorous grin.

"Might I draw your attention to a famous quotation?"

The guards stopped. This was not only strange, but ridiculous. This little skinny man was asking them about _quotations _when the Emperor was downright _furious? _When the Emperor was mildly annoyed people died over several years with red-hot pokers. When the Emperor was _angry, _which was rare, it was… highly unpleasant. He had _never _been this angry, and _someone _was going to die a very squishy death.

"Good-byeeeeee!" Rincewind pushed off, and burst through one of the walls to his left. Rice paper ripped easily, and the guards went slightly mad with their desperation to get him back, since they didn't want _any _of the Emperor's anger at them. The brighter of the two jumped through the hole Rincewind had made in his passing, while the other went through the door in the other room. Either way, Rincewind was sprinting well away by the time they got out.

The half-hour had already passed, and Jade Flower was waiting at the corner of the hallway. She could see some sort of commotion going on in the Emperor's study, and was slightly concerned about it. It could jeopardize things, especially if the wizzard had gotten himself caught.

To her immense surprise, one of the walls _burst _open, and Rincewind came out, making a mad dash in her direction. A guard followed him, while another came out the door, both in hot pursuit.

As he ran by, the wizzard grabbed Jade Flower by the wrist, and began to pull her along with him.

"What in _gods' names _are you _doing!_" she hissed, stumbling to keep up with the man's speed.

"Getting away!" he replied, turning a corner sharply. Jade Flower slipped on the polished floors, and he had to catch her other arm and pull her over. She yelped.

"That hurts!"

"Sorry! I've got your note!"

"Well, that's all good and lovely, but why did you drag me into this damned chase?"

He didn't reply, but kept running, attempting to get a decent turn-of-speed away from the guards. The guards themselves were in a mad dash to attempt to catch the wizzard, seeing that if they didn't, heads would roll. Literally.

"Let go of me!" Jade Flower hissed. "You'll get _me _in trouble! And I'm the one supposed to get _you _out of trouble!"

"Er… well, I hadn't quite thought that far ahead," Rincewind admitted. He turned another sharp corner, pulling Jade Flower to keep her from skidding on the polished floor.

"Ow!" she yelped, then said, "I have an idea. Risky, but play along."

"All right."

He found an elbow driven into his side. Stumbling, he slowed and tried to catch his breath.

"What the _hell_…"

The slim Agatean Librarian's fist hit him in the stomach, and he doubled over. This time, he stopped running, and instead backed away from the girl. He had the sudden grim revelation that he had been right about her the first time.

"I'm _really _sorry I have to do this, but _do _play along," she said, looking rather sincere, as she quickly kicked his legs out from under him. The wizzard hit the floor hard, and was winded for the second time in under a minute. He saw, from his fetal-positioned personal world of pain, the guards turning the corner and running towards him.

Jade Flower bent down, and pulled his hands behind his back, taking care not to be too rough.

"_Please _forgive me for this. I swear on my ancestors I'll get you out of it all right. This is just to keep us _both_ out of hot water."

The guards arrived, and dragged Rincewind to his feet, taking care to be very rough about it. They bowed to Jade Flower, saying nothing, and began to take Rincewind away.

Rincewind was dragged and kicked down several corridors, which, he noticed, were becoming increasingly familiar. From his little world of pain, he remembered going this way before, although he was with a homicidal tiger of a girl at the time, instead of two Imperial Guards. He was being taken to the Emperor's throne room, and he had a nasty sneaking suspicion that things were going to get very unpleasant very quickly.

The doors opened, and the wizzard was shoved into a large room. As he stumbled to his feet, he saw a massive throne, wrought out of several different kinds of precious metals, studded with gemstones of varying sizes and colors, and was cushioned with the most embroidered bits of silk in existence. It was a very impressive chair.(3)

The guards shoved Rincewind down to his feet, shouting 'Silence!' when he cried out in surprise and (one again) pain.

"What _will_ I do with you?" the Emperor said angrily, leaning forwards. "I have _never _heard of an instance of someone rifling through the Emperor's private study." One Swift River's dark eyes narrowed. "I will have to find something particularly unpleasant for _you_. That filing system took me well over two months to perfect."

He leaned back in his chair. Immediately, two girls appeared with peacock-feather fans, which they used to create a vague breeze around the Emperor. They also kept their eyes on their feet, which, given the circumstances, was very, very wise.

"I think the Grand Vizier would be able to help me find something appropriate," the Emperor said, all anger now gone from his voice. He actually sounded… amused. "Yes… bring the Grand Vizier to me. Now."

There was a mad scrambling from the back of the room, and one of the servants rushed to the door, presumably to get the Grand Vizier.

_Great, _Rincewind thought glumly. _The Grand Vizier. This is bad. _

Before the servant could open the door, it was pulled aside from the outside. In stepped Jade Flower.

"You called for me, o Sky Eminence?" she said, bowing.

"Ah, Jade Flower, my Grand Vizier," he said with a grin. "I seem to have found this… barbarian intruding in my study." His grin faded. "How might this have come to happen, my Grand Vizier?"

"I assure you that I have not the slightest idea, Most Wise and Assiduous Celestial Presence," she replied, staring rigidly at a point about two feet above the Emperor's head.

"Indeed," the Emperor responded, beginning to tap the armrest of his throne with one slim finger. "As it is, I would like you to take him down to the dungeons. Find something particularly calamitous to do. Afterwards… I would like to see your handiwork. I regret that I cannot accompany you, but there are pressing matters of state to deal with. It be nice if you did that thing with the magnet, the cheese, and the iron tables, however."

"Of course, Sun Emperor," Jade Flower said, while Rincewind gibbered a bit on the floor. The wizzard wasn't exactly sure what the cheese was for, but he had a very good idea about what could happen with the magnet and the iron tables.

"I'll be sure that there are plenty of rats and such sent down," he said lazily. "I await with eagerness the product of your work."

Jade Flower bowed, then waved at the guards. The Imperial Guards, on her cue, bound Rincewind's arms behind his back and kicked him sharply in the kidneys to make him stand. As the Guards marched him by, the wizzard shot a glance towards the Grand Vizier that was seething with anger. She didn't meet his eyes, but followed after the guards towards the dungeons, the nightingale floors squeaking all the way.

(1) She still had standards.

(2) Some jokes are universal.

(3) And also vaguely tacky, but still impressive. 

A/n- Yeah… that took a very long time. Well, for the explanation, look on my bio page. I hope you guys like this… and I do have a few twists coming up my sleeves. Surprisingly, I have already planned out most of this story. (I'm still open for suggestions, however! Hint hint, nudge nudge, wink wink! Feed your starving author! I like pie, you know! Ciao!


	10. The Magnet, the Cheese, and

_Wizzardly Accusations_

_Chapter Ten- The Magnet, the Cheese, and the Iron Tables_

**All right, I usually don't put Author's Notes at the beginning of chapters, but this is just a warning- this chapter gets a bit icky, in the blood n' gore sense. If that offends you, well… you've been warned. Onwards, now!**

Rincewind was led down several corridors, roughly pushed and seething with anger. He had been duped, mistaken, and duped again. He was beginning to wish that Jade Flower would just make up her damn mind as to what she's going to do.

All too soon they reached the dungeons. The guard gave him a quick kick in the kidneys even though he was moving along fast enough, then, once Jade Flower had gotten in the door, he slammed it shut behind them.

Rincewind looked around, and didn't like what he saw.

The dungeons composed of several dozen rooms, all of them filled with special, specific torture devices he was pretty sure were grouped by category. There was an acid pit, complete with manacles above it for suspending prisoners; another room had a rack for stretching some unfortunate victim; still another held an Iron Maiden, which was either rusty or covered in something unpleasant. Rincewind shuddered. Anyone with half a brain could tell that very disturbing and painful things went on down here.

Jade Flower, meanwhile, was dithering.

"Shit…" she was pacing, and wringing her delicate hands. "You _had _to get caught, didn't you? You couldn't just get the damn note and be out, could you? Now we're _both _in more hot water than I _ever _thought possible…" She trailed off, wringing her hands more.

"_You're _in hot water?" Rincewind cried, turning to face her. "_You're _not the one who's going to be tortured! That's _me, _thank you very much! And it's _your _fault, you bloody traitor!"

Jade Flower looked genuinely startled. "I haven't betrayed you! I'm not going to torture you, I can't! You're _valuable, _unfortunately." She rubbed her temples with one hand. "But a body has to come out of here, you realize. The Emperor, I think, is suspicious. _Somebody _has to die…"

"It had better not be me!" Rincewind said. He would've shaken a fist at her, but his hands were tied.

"Shut up," she replied. "I'm thinking." She started to pace again. Rincewind sighed irritably, and sat down on the floor. It was a very clean and well-scrubbed stone floor.

A few minutes later, Jade Flower stopped pacing. "I think I've got a solution."

The wizzard looked up from the floor, which he had been examining with idle curiosity. "What?"

"I think… you need to go into another room for a moment," she replied, cutting his bonds with a small knife. "I'm going to send for a servant."

Rincewind was slightly puzzled by this, but did as he was told, and stood in an adjoining room. He peered around the corner to get a decent look at things. Jade Flower opened the door and said something to the guard outside. She closed it, waited, and in half a minute it opened again, and a very tall, thin man walked in.

Rincewind had a very unpleasant idea of what she was going to do. He thought about saying something against it, but, then again… better a servant than him…

The wizzard pulled his head back. He covered his ears just in time to muffle a thin, slick sound followed by a choked cry. There was then a dull thud, like a sack of grain being dropped onto the floor.

He peered back around the corner.

Jade Flower stood over the servant. He was a very dead servant. Living people had more blood in them, and less splattered over the flagstones.

"It's all right," she said to him without turning around. "You can come back in. Do be careful where you tread." She knelt down and grabbed the body by the shoulders, then pulled him towards the metal tables set up in the other room.

"Give me a hand."

Rincewind gingerly walked around the puddle on the floor, and took the ex-servant's feet. He and the Grand Vizier lifted the body and carried it to the table, then heaved it up.

"All right," Jade Flower said, and began to pull the servant's robe off. "Give me the robe you're wearing."

Rincewind snatched his hat from a pocket and then tossed the robe to Jade Flower, who hurriedly dressed the cadaver in it. The wizzard pulled on the worn, although clean, robe, and shoved the hat back in a sleeve.

"You really won't want to see this," Jade Flower told him. "I think you should go somewhere else. A good distance away, preferably. I'll… handle the dirty work."

The wizzard needed no further prompting. He immediately headed for the closest convenient room, went through it, and continued into several others before realizing that he could get lost very easily around there.

He stopped, sat down underneath a few rusting manacles, and put his hands over his ears.

Jade Flower sighed. This whole affair was going to get very messy. After donning an apron and a pair of thick gloves, she went about her work.

First, the magnets. They were huge, powerful, and attracted anything vaguely metallic in a ten-foot radius with all the bloody-mindedness of a deranged mongoose with a cobra fetish. The Grand Vizier was rather glad she had taken off her jewelry, otherwise it would be permanently attached to the damned things.

She positioned them very carefully on the underside of the table where the…cadaver was placed, along with some cheese. The cheese would have, in other circumstances, been there to attract the rats, but Jade Flower figured that rats were the least of that servant's problems right now. (1)

Fifteen feet above that table was another metal table suspended by very thick rope. If she were doing this to a living person, she would let the winch in the corner slowly lower the table until the magnetic field caught it and began to pull, leaving the prisoner to wait until the ropes snapped and the table came down. However, since this guy was already dead…

She let the winch wind down to just above ten feet. The metal table was straining against the ropes. After crossing the room, tipping a wooden table on its side and crouching behind that, she very carefully drew a knife from her sleeve and threw it.

It sliced cleanly through the rope attached to the middle of the table. The other ropes snapped, and Jade Flower threw herself down before the tables collided.

There was a very impressive splash.

Rincewind heard, even though his ears were covered, a metallic clang, accompanied by a sickening squelch. He pressed his hands a bit tighter, then let them fall to his sides.

"Gods…" he murmured to himself. "What a day."

He stood. There was only one place to go, he realized, and that was back towards Jade Flower. He walked, reluctantly, wishing he were back at the Unseen University, back in his own bed. Surely anything over there would be better than was he was going to see here.

By following the sequence of torture devices he remembered seeing as he went through, Rincewind found his way back to Jade Flower, and immediately wished he hadn't.

There was blood _everywhere._

It was splashed on the walls, pooled darkly on the floor, splattered on the ceiling. It dripped, slowly, from between the two tables that were pressed very firmly together. Rincewind stared in horror, and tried not to be violently sick.

Jade Flower stepped out from behind a table. Her apron had a few splatters of blood across it.

"There's a mop over there, in that room to your left," she said calmly. "Get it, and I'll clean this mess up."

Rincewind stared at her. "Mess? This is one _hell _of a mess." A bit of something dark and squicky dripped off of the ceiling in front of him (2).

"Er… yes. Quite," she replied, turning the table back on its legs. "Now… the mop, please?"

Rincewind carefully stepped around the various puddles, and made it into the other room without treading in any of it. He found the mop in a corner.

"Jade Flower?" he called back.

"What?"

"I think we're going to need a bigger mop. Or something."

"…Just bring it, will you? There should be a sink in there, too, and a bucket."

He found them, and filled the bucket with water before bringing both items to Jade Flower. She began to mop up the floor.

"This'll be a while," she said. "You might want to look for another mop to help me."

He went in search of another mop, sincerely hoping he wouldn't find one and could just wander through the rooms until she finished this herself.

It took quite a while for Jade Flower to clean the floor and walls. She couldn't reach the ceiling, and had to leave it for the servants later on. As for the corpse… well, there was no way _she _was going to be able to get the magnets off. That was another job for the servants. Normally, of course, she wouldn't have bothered with cleaning up after herself at all, but she needed some way to account for the time it would have taken to at least been vaguely torturous to the victim. It also gave her a bit to think about her next move- and she was pretty sure of what it would be.

Rincewind came back eventually, mop-less. Jade Flower didn't blame him for trying to avoid this room- it had been terribly icky before.

"Now what?" he asked with a sigh.

"Now we leave this horribly mutilated body here," she replied, "and you follow me out of here."

"Leaving sounds like a very good idea," Rincewind conceded. "But if I go out, doesn't it kind of defeat the purpose of…er… killing that servant?"

"I never said we'd leave through the door," Jade Flower said. "There's a secret exit in one of the walls. It leads to the sewers. From there, I can get you out."

She went through several rooms while Rincewind followed. He tried, with limited success, not to think about what had happened in that other room. However, once Jade Flower found and opened the hidden door, he managed to focus on the task at hand.

"Follow close behind me," she instructed. Rincewind nodded fervently. He had _experience _with this sort of thing.

The tunnel was dimly lit by small torches set in brackets on the stone walls. It had a slight downward angle, since the dungeons weren't as low as the sewers. Jade Flower hopped nimbly from one flagstone to another while the wizzard scuttled after her, noting the soft click as machinery, probably deadly ones, disengaged. At one point the Grand Vizier paced between three stones for a few moments, then continued on, doubled back, and kicked the wall.

"We're almost there."

She did a standing-jump out in front. As she landed, her sandaled feet slid out from under her and she fell hard on her back. There was a sound like 'click-click-click-whirrr-click-CLONK', the sound of water sloshing from one container to another, and Jade Flower grabbed Rincewind's ankle and tugged him down just as a very sharp blade shot out of the wall at eye height.

"Sorry," she said, slightly winded. "I didn't think the floor was so slippery."

She helped him stand, and ducked under the blade to continue down the hall. "It's just a bit further on." She quickly smoothed out a few imaginary wrinkles on her robe.

Eventually they came upon a part of the hall that twisted to the right, and Jade Flower walked deliberately on the inside of the curve. Rincewind made the slight mistake of putting his foot outside the flagstones that lined the curve of the wall, and quickly pulled it away as the stone cracked, buckled, and fell into a deep pit. He looked down into it, and saw that the _only _supported stones were the ones that he was currently walking on. All the others were paper-thin covers over a very dark abyss of unknown depth. The wizzard shuddered slightly, and carefully hurried to catch back up with Jade Flower.

Once the curve straightened out, Jade Flower continued on only about fifty yards before turning to the right. She tapped on the wall, listening intently. The wall thunked as she tapped it, until she hit a spot that went _clunk_. After a few prods, she managed to find an edge, and pushed open a revolving door. The odor of sewer drifted into the hall. To Rincewind, this was a very mild scent compared to Ankh-Morpork on a hot day, although Jade Flower considered it to be quite pungent.

"Here are the sewers," she said, while one hand covered her nose. "Go to the right and there'll be a ladder leading up to the streets. Use the first one you come across, and you'll come up near one of the market squares. I'll meet up with you later. Until then, lie low for a bit. "

Rincewind nodded, and started through the door. He stopped when Jade Flower tugged lightly on his sleeve.

"…Be careful."

(1) Actually, the only things the dead have to worry about are decay and necrophilia.

(2) It was possibly a bit of spleen.


End file.
